


Boyfriend Material

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [117]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Humor, M/M, Public Sex, Top Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:41:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ball room dance was supposed to be an easy ‘A’ class. Apparently, Balthazar was the only one in the entire class that Castiel was capable of dancing with and not tripping over. Being pressed against him during a fox trot certainly did nothing to quell Castiel’s sexual identity crisis that had been slowly simmering for a few years. Trying to figure out what Balthazar was after – just sex or a relationship, he had no idea – was not conducive to maintaining his sanity through his last semester of college either.<br/>Fucking in the bathroom after class did wonders for stress relief, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfriend Material

There was a single, small arched window in the only men’s bathroom of the renovated church that served as a dance studio. It was an abstract design, casting blocky patterns of vivid color across the drab white floors and walls of the bathroom. There was a toilet, and a sink. No stalls. It was a single person bathroom. Currently occupied by two people.

One arm wrapped around Balthazar’s waist, Castiel kissed the ridge of his spine and fucked him slowly, bent over the sink. Long sandy blond hair pulled back in a pony tail was mussed as Balthazar rubbed against him, pulled Castiel’s face along his neck, twisted around to steal a kiss. Shirt open, bare chest pressed to the warmth of Balthazar’s back, Castiel was still mostly dressed where Balthazar only had his leggings barely hanging from one ankle.

Even though it wasn’t used as a church anymore, Castiel felt vaguely dirty in a way he hadn’t since he was a twelve year old convinced that God watched him masturbate. He hadn’t attended mass in over three years, although he still prayed for guidance sometimes. Castiel’s relationship with his faith was complicated. 

Balthazar rolled his hips back, reached behind himself to grasp Castiel’s hip and urge him faster. One leg folded up against the sink, sinuous lines of his lean body colored from the sunlight pouring through the stained window, Balthazar watched him in the mirror. Castiel barely recognized himself, catching a glimpse over Balthazar’s shoulder, dark hair wild and cheeks pinked. He felt reckless and daring, but Balthazar had a way of bringing that out. Castiel had only known him for a handful of months and somehow in that span his cocky brash attitude had managed to charm Castiel. It was baffling.

Castiel couldn’t figure out why physical education was a core requirement for college, and as avoidance was usually his preferred means of dealing with things that irritated him, he had shunted the class to his last year. Ballroom dance was the only phys-ed class that would fit in his schedule by the time he got around to registering for the semester. It was embarrassing; Castiel was the only person in the class that wasn’t majoring in dance of some sort.

And he was one of only two men in the class.

Balthazar was far more graceful and agile than he. Straightening, Castiel gripped Balthazar’s hips and shoved him forward. Smacking a hand on the mirror to brace, Balthazar balanced on the ball of one foot and still managed to fuck himself back on Castiel like it was an art form.

The cramped bathroom was warm, the sounds they made loud between narrow walls. This was nothing like the tender intimacy Castiel had thought was the only way to have sexual intercourse when he was younger, nothing like the acceptably timid missionary sex in the dark between a husband and a wife. He and Balthazar, he supposed, were friends. It didn’t extend beyond that. Although guilt and shame would linger through the rest of the day, Castiel knew he would find himself fantasizing about - and masturbating to - Balthazar’s glutes in those tight leggings before the next class session.

Ball room dance was supposed to be an easy ‘A’ class. Apparently, Balthazar was the only one in the entire class that Castiel was capable of dancing with and not tripping over. Being pressed against him during a fox trot certainly did nothing to quell Castiel’s sexual identity crisis that had been slowly simmering for a few years. Trying to figure out what Balthazar was after – just sex or a relationship, he had no idea – was not conducive to maintaining his sanity through his last semester of college either.

Fucking in the bathroom after class did wonders for stress relief, though.

Balthazar leaned forward and rested his forehead against the mirror to slide a hand down and jack himself off, panting obscenities as Castiel curled over him and pressed in deep. Arms circling his waist, Castiel grunted against the sweaty skin of Balthazar’s back, holding on as he trembled and shook, climaxed into the sink and squeezed around Castiel’s cock vice tight. Gasping, bodies pressed flush, Castiel clung onto Balthazar for a languid warm minute before pulling out.

Disposing of the condom in the small waste basket and covering it with crumpled paper towels, Castiel pulled up his slacks and let Balthazar use the sink first as he splashed water on his face and rinsed the semen out.

The dimples that framed his spine were entirely too endearing, and he had an ass sculpted for bending over.

Grinning licentiously, Balthazar stepped back and stretched his arms. “I don’t understand how you can be so bad at dancing when you’re so good at fucking.”

Castiel glared at him, “They’re completely different.”

Shrugging, Balthazar balled up his leggings and rummaged in his bag for jeans. “They really aren’t, Cassie. Sex is like naked dancing. At least it should be. Of course there are men who have no rhythm in their hips, but you certainly aren’t one of them. You just need to figure out how to dance with your clothes on and people watching.”

The last thing Castiel needed the next time he fucked Balthazar was to think about their classmates watching. “I really only need to pass this class.”

“Might as well have fun with it.”

The thing was, in Castiel’s opinion, that Balthazar was entirely genuine. He might be lewd, and flirt with anyone that had a pulse, but he was sincere.

Balthazar pulled a loose grey t-shirt over his head and leaned against the sink, eyeing Castiel as he buttoned his shirt.

“You know, there’s a club down town that has swing dance parties Friday nights.”

Castiel tried to salvage the loose pulled knot of his tie.

“It’s a great place to pick up swingers of all sorts.”

Castiel rolled his eyes upward and buckled his belt. Balthazar was fishing for something and he had no idea what.

“You don’t seem like the sort of person that gets out enough, Cassie.”

Sighing, Castiel patted down his front trying to smooth his shirt. “I don’t know why you’re inviting me to a dance club. I can’t dance.”

“Ah, but there’s alcohol, and everyone dances better after a few drinks. Swing was made for it.”

Castiel squinted at him, “Are you trying to take pity on me?”

Balthazar’s laugh was buoyant as he slapped Castiel’s arm. “No, I’m trying to ask you on a date, you thick skulled boy.”

“A date?”

“Yes, you know, that thing that people do when they like each other?”

“We’re already having sex.”

“That we are, and I seem to have gotten the mistaken notion that I might enjoy your company for your humor, and not just your cock.”

“I’m not very funny.”

“No, you’re not, darling, but the offer still stands.”

Castiel could just see a hint of laughter in Balthazar’s smile. He had so, so many papers to write. Honestly, though, almost four years of college had passed him by and he hadn’t made any friends that lasted beyond a semester. Digging out his cell phone, Castiel passed it to Balthazar.

“Put your number in and text me on Friday with the location.”

“There’s my boy,” Balthazar patted Castiel’s cheek and fiddle with the phone, passing it back and shouldering his bag. “I will see you Friday night. Oh, do you have any waistcoats? That would certainly perk up your Sunday school look.”

“I might have a few.”

“Good. Work on your waltz, Cassie, your timing is atrocious.”

With that, and a cheeky wink, Balthazar was gone. Castiel glanced at his phone, scrolling through the contacts to find a new name. He had to read it several times before accepting that Balthazar had entered his number as ‘boyfriend material’.


End file.
